Quirk
by kaletra7
Summary: A girl enters the Nabootique to clean up after a fall. Soon, however, she finds herself a lot closer to the men working in the shop, especially a certain Electro Goth Fairy we all know and love. A Vince/OC story. For a bit of fun, light-hearted reading.
1. Chapter 1

**I appreciate that Vince X OC stories may not be to everyone's liking. After all, everyone wants Vince! However, that's just how I want this story to go.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned, I wouldn't be here. I'd be making Vince cuddle me. I do, however, own Addison Quirk.**

It was a bright August morning in London. Few cars moved along the small roads, as people had decided for once that they would rather walk than drive. The warm sunshine was only just reaching full warmth, and a glance at the time would have informed anyone that it was ten-forty-one. Two young children ran ahead of their parents, both dripping ice-cream behind them in a messy white trail. A blonde woman jogged along the street, ponytail swinging behind her as she moved. The children split to escape her path, and she gave their parents a dirty look, obviously believing she was the owner of the street and it was an offence to bring anyone under thirty into her realm. A tiny cafe, with a sign promising ice cream and cold drinks outside, was bustling. A queue of people buzzed steadily outside, eyeing the already-served customers and their multicoloured sorbets. Next door to the café, however, was a shop. A shop with a neon sign that looked suspiciously like a monkey's head. A shop run by a turban-clad shaman. A shop called the Nabootique.

The blonde jogger passed the Nabootique, giving the sign a distasteful look. Unfortunately, this meant that she wasn't looking where she was going. A moment later, she was on the floor with a sharp pain running through her head. Angrily, she glared at the other person on the floor with her; a young woman with short, spiky hair.

'Watch where you're going, idiot,' she spat, hauling herself off the floor. The girl looked at her helplessly, before giving up and turning away. The jogger started running again, narrowly avoiding stamping on the girl's fingers, which she had just managed to pull back in time. Disbelieving, she turned and burnt metaphorical eyeholes in the blonde's back, desperately praying for her to run into something large and solid. Preferably surgically-enhanced nose first.

Gingerly, the young woman stood again, swearing quite loudly as she noticed the bleeding, gritty graze down the side of her calf.

'Shit.'

With a couple of steps, she reached the nearest shop door. Wiping one hand on her scruffy denim shorts, she used the other to peer through the window. Inside, behind a counter covered in odd trinkets and a table full of suspiciously organised stationery, was a man with his back turned. Although she didn't think much of his dress-sense (brown, brown, brown, and a brown fedora), she decided anyone would do. Besides, a man that square was bound to have a first-aid kit, right?

Softly, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. A small bell rang, signalling the man to her presence. He turned rapidly, a broad and rather creepy smile on his face.

'Hello, and what can I do for you?' He took in her appearance, and visibly slackened. 'You'll be looking for Vince then?'

The girl frowned. 'Erm… no? Actually, I was wondering if you have anywhere I can clean up.' She turned her leg to the side, giving the man full view of her bleeding leg. 'I fell a bit.'

Immediately frowning, the man moved from behind the counter and took a couple of careful steps towards her.

'That's quite a scrape you've got there.'

She nodded. 'Yeah. Some jogger crashed into me and we both ended up on the floor. I came out worse, too.'

The man gestured to a flight of stairs, from which there was the vague sound of a techno beat.

'If you go up there and to your left, there's a bathroom on the right,' he smiled. The look was slightly creepy, but she could see he meant well. She thanked him gratefully, making her way over to the stairs. She climbed about halfway, before turning back.

'Sorry, what's your name?' she questioned.

'Howard. Howard Moon,' he replied, straightening out his abysmal brown shirt.

'Great,' she grinned. 'Thanks Howard.'

Howard gave her another creepy smile, then turned back to the counter. The last thing she saw of him was a panicked leap towards the stationery table, aiming for what seemed like a slightly out-of-place highlighter.

Slightly apprehensive due to the fact she had no idea what she was walking into, she headed upstairs. Thankfully, upon reaching the top, she found a relatively normal-looking flat. The bright red walls were decorated with many varying plates, posters and shelves, signally more than one person definitely lived here. A small monochrome sofa resided in the centre of the room, layered haphazardly with neon cushions and a startlingly orange blanket. The techno music was louder now, and emitted from a door at the end of the corridor. Remembering Howard's direction, she turned left and headed down the tiny hallway, finding a bathroom on the right, exactly as he'd promised.

She entered the bathroom, immediately noting the amount of hair products on the glass shelf. _Howard's wife, _she thought. _Or girlfriend_. She tugged some toilet roll from the holder and folded it, wetting it slightly under the tap and dabbing the drying blood on her leg. The icy cold water felt weird on her broken skin, but it was refreshing at least. She lifted her leg and placed the Doc Marten boot on the edge of the sink, so as to clean the wound easier.

Just at that moment, a man burst into the bathroom. A skinny man with incredible hair clad in a pair of sequinned pyjama bottoms. He lifted his head, suddenly seeing that he was not alone and there was, in fact, a stranger in his bathroom. An expression of confusion flickered across his pointed features.

'Urm… hello?'

She smiled, appreciating the fact that she had the power. 'Hi.'

And that's how Vince Noir met Addison Quirk.

**And there you have it. The first chapter of my own little indulgence.**

**If you enjoyed it, let me know! If you have some constructive criticism, let me know!**

**If you're going to flame, don't bother.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I hadn't expected such support on this story! I thought Vince/OC stories must be forbidden on here, there are so few…**

**To anyone I couldn't reply to:**

**Fael: Thank you! I've been working on my descriptions for a while now, because it's always been my worst skill…**

**Anon: Thanks! And yes, I kind of agree with you, although I do love Howince.**

_Just at that moment, a man burst into the bathroom. A skinny man with incredible hair clad in a pair of sequinned pyjama bottoms. He lifted his head, suddenly seeing that he was not alone and there was, in fact, a stranger in his bathroom. An expression of confusion flickered across his pointed features._

_'Urm… hello?'_

_She smiled, appreciating the fact that she had the power. 'Hi.'_

_And that's how Vince Noir met Addison Quirk._

Addison took in the appearance of the man in front of her. His hair was, clinically speaking, fucking amazing. Pointed features and large, friendly eyes adorned his long face, and a slender neck lead down to a skinny torso. His silver pyjama pants trailed slightly on the floor, as if his legs were a little too short for the garment. However, his bare feet were just visible; perfectly pedicured toenails peeping out from under shiny material.

His expression was blank, and his head tilted slightly to the side, as if he was trying to remember something. Suddenly, his expression seemed to clear and he tried a smile.

'Sorry, did I shag you last night?'

Addison blinked at him, and then coughed out a disbelieving laugh. When he still looked at her expectantly, she stopped and blinked again. Was he serious?

'Erm… no?'

'Oh, thank God,' he nodded, huffing out a sigh. His eyes widened as he realised what he'd just said, and he gestured wildly. 'Not that there'd be a problem if I did! It's just… I don't know, I was off my tits last night. I could've been rammed from the back by a bull elephant and I wouldn't know it.'

She'd stopped listening by the time he finished his sentence. Not because it wasn't a completely exciting and interesting piece of memoir literature, but because she was sure she recognised this man from somewhere. His face seemed awfully familiar for a perfect stranger.

'So if I didn't shag you, what are you doing in my bathroom?'

His question broke her thought-trail, and so she instead elected to answer.

'The guy with the crap dress-sense downstairs let me in. I fell over…'

She turned her leg, foot still pivoting on the side of the sink, so the man could look at the still-bleeding wound on her leg. His face twisted and he looked back up at her.

'Not to be rude or anything, but can you hurry up please, 'cause I need to piss.'

Addison snorted, despite herself. She removed her foot from the sink and skipped brightly out of the room.

'Oi, babe?'

She turned again, back to the man with the amazing hair.

'Yeah?'

He grabbed a piece of toilet paper and an eyeliner pencil and thrust them at her.

'Just in case you fancy hanging out in my bathroom again, I can let you know when I'm free,' he stated with a wink, turning to the shelves of products and muttering something about minimizing his pores.

There was something unbelievably charming about this stranger. Maybe it was the hair, maybe the eyes, the dress sense. Or maybe it was the accent. But no matter what caused it, Addison Quirk couldn't stop herself from scribbling down her name and number on the toilet paper and handing it to the man. She turned once more, but once again he stopped her.

'Here, have mine,' he smiled, ripping off another piece of toilet paper and scribbling down his own name and number, handing the scrap to her when he was done. She grinned at him.

'I'll call you then,' she laughed, reading his name from the paper, '…Vince.'

'Maybe I'll call you,' he replied, '…Addison.'

She pranced away from the bathroom, sauntering down the stairs to the beat of the unchanged techno music. Howard Moon was still staring at the table of stationery, measuring the spaces between the pencil sharpeners with a ruler. As Addison reached the shop, he glanced up and gave her the creepy smile again.

'Did you clean up okay?'

Smiling, she gave him a quick nod. 'Yeah, thanks for letting me invade.'

'It's no trouble at all,' Howard stated grandly, waving an arm. She raised an eyebrow, but chose not to say anything. On her way out, Addison happened to glance at a framed picture on the wall.

A framed picture of Vince.

A framed picture of Vince on the cover of Cheekbone magazine.

Addison practically fell out of her Doc Marten boots. Turning swiftly back to Howards, she jabbed a thumb at the shimmering frame.

'Vince is Vince _Noir_?' she gasped in disbelief. Howard gave a sigh, almost as if he had heard this many times before.

'Yes, Vince is Vince Noir.'

Heart thudding, Addison thanked Howard again and stumbled out of the shop. Vince Noir was an icon in Cheekbone magazine. He had graced the cover four hundred and three times, won best-dressed awards seventy times in a row, and was a legend in the world of fashion. Making her way back down the street, the way she'd been going only minutes earlier, Addison pulled the toilet paper out of her pocket and gazed at the scribbles on the page. Reaching in her pocket for her phone, she transferred the number to its memory and entered the gorgeous barnetted man's name next to it.

From this moment on, Addison Quirk's life became a hell of a lot more interesting.

**Yeah, I'm not really very happy with this chapter… But it was necessary for the story!**

**Reviewers can have a …framed copy of Vince's Cheekbone cover.**


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